the deepest secret nobody knows
by Strange Soulmates
Summary: After he is taken from Diagon Alley, Harry Potter's parents become determined to shield their child from anything and everything. Harry finds the loneliness of his new situation far worse than the kidnapping that prompted it. When he sees a shooting star, Harry Potter wishes for a friend, and for someone who will keep him safe. It turns out Tom Riddle is his dream come true.
1. Chapter 1

**This story was written for the Tomarry big bang on tumblr, and is complete. It's nine chapters in total, and I'll do my best to put them up in the next few days. Apologies for forgetting to post this here sooner**

* * *

Harry Potter sat on the floor of his room, staring up at the stars through blurry eyes, clutching his stuffed lion as tightly as he could. His stuffed lion was his only friend now.

Harry had had friends before. He'd started primary school last fall, and he'd had so much fun, even if he wasn't allowed to talk about magic. He'd spent lots of time with Neville, and the two of them had played together for as long as Harry could remember.

But his mummy and daddy had taken him out of primary school. Instead, his mummy stayed home with him and taught him. Harry loved his mummy, but it wasn't the same. He missed all his friends. Harry wasn't allowed to go visit Neville anymore, and Neville couldn't come over to their house to see him. The only people Harry saw anymore were his mummy and daddy, and they'd been acting funny for awhile now.

They hugged him too long, and sometimes Harry would wake up in the middle of the night and find either daddy or mummy sitting at the chair in the corner of his room, watching him while he slept with a funny look on his face. Some nights, he'd fall asleep in his own bed and wake up snuggled between Mummy and Daddy.

He wasn't even allowed to play in the backyard alone anymore. He could help Mummy in the garden, and play on his toy broom with Daddy, but he always had to be with one of them to go outside. His mummy and daddy never used to be like this. Harry had been allowed to go outside by himself whenever he wanted, as long his parents knew what he was up to for as long as he could remember.

He was being punished. The only time his parents had ever kept him from seeing his friends or going outside was when he had done something bad. Maybe that was why he kept catching mummy and daddy crying when they thought he wasn't paying attention. Maybe that was why they looked so angry sometimes, like the time he'd hurt himself when he snuck out on Daddy's broom and his face had turned all dark, the way it did a lot of the time now.

But it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair! Harry hadn't done anything wrong! Even Mummy and Daddy said so! It wasn't his fault!

Daddy had taken him on a trip to Diagon Alley, which Harry always thought was really fun. There were so many interesting things to look at! All the shop windows were so pretty, and if he was good, he sometimes got to pick out a toy from Enchanted Delights, the toystore. Mummy had been busy doing some work that weekend, so it had just been a boys' day out. Boys' days out were always a lot of fun. He got to ride around on his Daddy's shoulders and other fun things that Mummy would have yelled about if she saw them.

But then Daddy had run into somebody Harry had never met before, and they'd started talking. And they'd been talking forever. Harry tried his best to be good, because his Daddy said that they would go look at brooms and if Harry was really well behaved, his daddy might let him try one of the big-kid brooms out. But he wanted to go see the brooms now, and it was so hard being good, especially when the adults just kept talking about boring stuff and it was hot outside. The brooms were right there, too.

Harry had tugged on his daddy's robe, even though he knew it was rude to interrupt, and his Daddy had looked down at him.

"What is it, Harry?" Daddy had asked.

"Can I go look at the brooms?" he asked, giving his daddy his sweetest smile.

Daddy gave him a look for a minute, before turning to look at the window of the broom store. Daddy reached up and ruffled up his hair before he sighed.

"Alright, Harry," he'd said. "That's fine. But you need to promise to stay right in front of the windows, okay? Right where I can see you. You can't go anywhere else."

"Okay!" Harry had chirped happily. He'd reached out and hugged his Daddy's legs in thanks before skipping off to the window, leaving the boring conversation behind.

Harry pressed his face right up to the glass, even though his mummy had told him not to a thousand times. But his mummy wasn't here, so Harry was going to do it. Because this was the closest he could get to the brooms on this side of the glass. So Harry scooted forward until his face was pressed against the cold glass and he stared, marveling at the brooms in front of him.

Harry didn't know how long he'd been staring, and how long the guy had been standing next to him before he talked.

"Cleansweep Four," the man said with a whistle. "Top of the line broom right, there. Is it your favorite."

Harry didn't look away from the broom, but he nodded his head.

"Why is it your favorite?"

"I like the color," Harry told him. Most other brooms were just a boring brown, but this one was almost red. The words on it were a very shiny gold, and all the metal holding the twigs together was the shiny gold.

"Red is your favorite color?" the man asked again.

Harry shook his head.

"Green," Harry said. "But they don't have green brooms. Red is my next favorite though."

Harry sighed and turned to face the man. Mummy said it was rude not to look at people when you were talking to them. He was tall and he was old, about as old as mummy and Daddy. He had a smile on his face, but something about his eyes made Harry think that he wasn't nice.

"No wonder you like green," the man said. "Not with eyes like that."

Harry felt all the hair on his arms stand up on end, like it did when it was cold outside. Only it was like it was cold inside him.

Harry didn't like this man. He didn't like him at all.

"I'm going to go back to my Daddy," Harry told the man, turning around.

There was a hand digging into his shoulder, and Harry let out a cry of pain, tears filling his eyes.

"Don't worry," the man said, a mean smile on his face. "I'm a friend of your daddy. I can take you back to him."

Harry sucked in a deep breath before he began screaming at the top of his lungs.

"DADDY!" Harry shouted. "DADDY HELP ME! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

Harry fought and thrashed, but it wasn't enough. The man pulled him up to him, and the last thing Harry saw before the was squished down was the look on his daddy's face.

Harry ran his finger across his pinky to reassure himself. It had been scary. It had been really scary. The man had kept apparating over and over, and Harry had gotten splinched. He'd only had nine fingers the time he'd been with the man. Harry had spent most of it under the bed, terrified. Harry had no idea how long he'd been cowering under there before he heard his daddy's voice. His mummy and daddy had told him over and over again that they loved him, that it hadn't been his fault. That he hadn't done anything wrong.

Except they must have changed their minds, because Harry was being punished.

Harry loved his mummy and daddy. He did. But he was lonely. He was so lonely. All he wanted was for everything to go back to the way it had been before. He wanted someone his own age to play with. Someone who could protect him, so that his mummy and daddy wouldn't be scared any more. So that he wouldn't be scared anymore.

But above everything else, Harry wanted a friend.

There was a bright flash in the stars above, and Harry gasped. A shooting star. A real shooting star!

Closing his eyes, Harry wished for a friend with all his might.

There was a glow, so bright that Harry could see it with his eyes closed. He was warm all over, like he was dunked in the bathtub but without the wet. Like being wrapped in the biggest, fluffiest blanket. Except there were tingles all up and down his arms, like he'd just shocked himself on the doorknob.

Harry opened his eyes and gasped. He was glowing. All over his body. He looked like a firefly. Harry waved his arms through the air and watched the way the glow moved with him. He giggled, a wide smile working it's way over his face. It was so pretty.

Then suddenly the room began to waver around him, and Harry's eyes widened. The wavering turned to spinning, everything rotating faster and faster around him until it was all a blur while Harry stood still. Looking at the spinning made Harry feel sick, so he just closed his eyes and clutched his lion even tighter.

There was a sharp gasp, and Harry opened his eyes.

Gone was his room with the magical mural, his red canopy bed, the floor littered with toys. Instead Harry found himself in a small, cramped room. It was dark, and it smelled like mold. There was only one window, and it was dirty. Harry himself was sitting on a small, cramped bed, covered in a dirty, threadbare blanket.

Sitting on the bed in front of him was a boy Harry had never seen before. He was a few years older than Harry, but not old enough to go to Hogwarts yet. He was really pale, with hollow cheeks and sharp cheekbones. He stared at Harry with dark eyes that were blown wide, filled with wonder and awe.

The boy reached out and pressed a hand against him, his eyes growing even wider when flesh met flesh.

"You're here," the boy say, his eyes wide. "You're real."

Harry's stared at him, his mouth open.

"I made a wish," the boy said. "I made a wish, and now you're here."

He'd made a wish. Just like Harry had.

"I did too," Harry said simply.

The boy looked at him with serious eyes.

"What did you wish for?" he asked.

"A friend," Harry answered. "Somebody who could keep me safe."

He looked up at the boy in front of him.

"What did you wish for?" Harry asked.

"A friend," the boy answered. "Someone who would understand me."

Magic. Magic, Harry realized at once. It had granted their wishes. This boy, this boy would be his friend.

"My name is Harry," Harry said simply. "What's your name?"

"Tom," the boy said, giving Harry a look.

That was all Harry needed. He threw himself forward and wrapped his arms around Tom.

"I promise, Tom," Harry said. "I'll be the best friend ever. I'll never turn my back on you, no matter what."

Tom sat there stiffly, like maybe he wasn't used to anybody hugging him. That just made Harry hug tighter. Harry would make sure Tom didn't go without hugs anymore. But after awhile, he reached out and wrapped his arms around Harry, squeezing him even tighter.

"I'll keep you safe, Harry," Tom whispered into his hair. "I promise. No one will ever touch you again."

* * *

Harry sat on the bed he and Tom shared in Wool's orphanage, tears streaming down his face. In his hands were the torn scraps of his lion. Billy Stubbs had snuck up on Harry while he was out in the yard, playing with Godric. Tom had been stuck inside in the kitchen on clean up duty. Harry had tried to keep him company, but he'd been chased out by Martha.

Undefended, Harry had apparently made far too tempting a target. Billy Stubbs was the resident bully of the orphanage. Harry didn't know what he'd done, but he'd somehow become one of Billy's favorite people to torment.

The first sign Harry had had that something was wrong had come when he'd been shoved violently, falling forward onto the ground and hitting his chin hard enough to have his teeth sinking into his tongue. His eyes filled with tears as his mouth filled with blood, but Harry blinked them away furiously. Being branded a crybaby was the last thing he needed.

Harry began to push himself up, but before he could, a foot connected with his side, knocking the wind out of him.

"Itty Bitty Potty, all on his own," a familiar voice said.

Harry had to fight the urge to flinch when he recognized it as belonging to Billy.

"Where's Tom, Potty?" Billy asked as Harry pushed himself up and to his feet, glaring at Billy. "I thought the two of you were joined at the hip. Freaks have to stick together after all."

Harry grit his teeth, feeling hot all over as anger flared to life deep in his belly. He and Tom weren't freaks! They weren't! They were wizard! They could do magic! When they were old enough, they would go to Hogwarts and fly on broomsticks and do all sorts of things a stupid boy like Billy couldn't even imagine!

"We're not freaks!" Harry shouted at him.

Billy laughed in his face.

"You're a freak, Potty. You're a freak and a weirdo. A coward too, always hiding behind Tom. But Tom is ten times more freakish then you."

Harry's hands fisted at his sides.

"Tom is not a freak!" Harry shouted.

"You're right," Billy said. "He's a demon. Everybody says so. Devilspawn. How else could he do those freaky things? He's pure evil."

Harry was trembling with rage now, too angry to even speak. Instead he reached out and shoved Billy as hard as he could.

Billy didn't just take a step back, or fall on his butt like Harry had been expecting. No, Billy went soaring through the air before he landed on the ground hard, a full ten feet away from where he'd started.

Accidental magic. It had to be.

They'd gathered a small crowd of children, all of whom were eager to see how the confrontation would play out. After seeing Billy go flying across the yard, most of them had broke into delight.

Billy pushed himself upright, angrier than Harry had ever seen him, cheeks stained red with humiliation.

"You'll pay for that, freak!" Billy shouted.

Harry turned to run. He wasn't a coward, and he knew that. But standing his ground now would just be stupid. Still, it didn't do him any good. He barely made it three steps before a hand fisted in his ratty, third-hand shirt jerked him to a stop, practically choking him in the process. Before Harry had time to recover, he'd been thrown to the ground, Billy towering over him.

The boy had an ugly sneer on his face, and a look in his eyes that Harry knew meant pain. Then Billy's eyes fell on Godric, still clutched tightly in one of Harry's hands and he gave a truly malicious smile. Billy kicked him hard in the ribs, then reached down and yanked Godric from his hands while Harry was struggling through the pain.

"Who's this, Potty?" Bill asked.

"Give him back," Harry snarled, trying to push himself to his feet.

Billy shoved him back to the ground with a cruel smile.

"Little baby Potty. The coward needs a brave lion to protect him," Billy sneered.

The bully inspected the worn lion that Harry had had as long as he could remember, and Harry felt his stomach sinking.

"Where'd you get this, Potty?" Billy asked. "None of the rest of us get anything so nice. What makes a freak like you so special?"

"My parents gave him to me," Harry said, his mouth too dry for his voice to be loud.

"What?" Billy said.

"My parents gave him to me," Harry said again, louder this time.

The expression that crossed Billy's face then was even uglier than anything Harry had seen on it before.

"You're an orphan, Potty," he said with a sneer. "You don't have parents."

And then he tore Godric's leg clean off.

By the time it was all over, Harry was curled in a small ball. His lip was cut, his side hurt every time he took a breath, and he knew that in a few hours he'd be covered in deep bruises, including what was certain to be a spectacular black eye. His glasses were broken again, which he knew would make the matron angry. He didn't care about any of that though. All he cared about were the bits of fabric and stuffing that covered the ground next to him.

Gathering them close, Harry felt his eyes burning. Godric. The last and only piece of his family gone. Torn to pieces.

Harry bit his lip hard to keep himself from crying. Not here. He couldn't cry here. He'd practically run back up to the room he and Tom shared, slamming the door behind him before he let the tears fall. He remembered the day his Mum and Dad had taken him to Diagon Alley, the time they'd all spent playing together in the toy store. The proud grin on his dad's face when Harry had asked for the lion, the way his mother had rolled her eyes with a smile on his face. The way his Mum would make Godric talk when she was telling Harry bedtime stories. The way Godric would "defeat" his Dad during tickle fights when Harry called on the lion to save him. The adventures the two of them had together in the house, the garden, the park.

His last piece of home, gone.

Harry had no idea how long he sat there before he felt a hand on his shoulder. Harry jerked back, startled, banging his back into the wall, making him hiss in pain.

Tom stood in front of him, his dark eyes taking in Harry's appearance before they narrowed, anger making them shine. Wordlessly, Tom sat beside Harry and reached out, his hand cupping Harry's chin as he turned Harry's face towards the window. Harry didn't fight him. Harry would never fight Tom. Tom took care of him. Moments like this just let Harry know how much Tom cared.

Harry needed someone to care about him right now.

A fresh wave of tears fell down his face, and Tom let go of his chin to wipe them carefully away with his finger.

"What happened?" Tom asked, his voice calm.

Harry held up the scraps of what once used to be his prized possession in answer. Tom looked down at them and his nose wrinkled. Tom had never liked mess or disorganization, but he would tolerate it for Harry. But then recognition washed over Tom's face and the disgust faded to be replaced with anger.

"Godric?" he asked, examining the scraps.

Harry nodded, throat too full of emotion to speak.

Tom gently pulled the pieces away from Harry and set them on the bed before he reached out and pulled Harry into a hug. Harry ignored the pain in his ribs and reached out to wrap his arms around Tom in turn, squeezing tightly. Tom took care of Harry. He would stop the other orphans from bullying them. He taught Harry how to use his magic a way no one else could. Tom explained things in a way Harry could understand them. Tom kept him company and played with him, even when it was clear that he thought the games were stupid just because it would make Harry happy. Tom took care of him, making sure he had enough to eat and was warm enough even in the meager accommodations they were provided. With Tom beside him, Harry felt like he could do anything.

Harry might have missed his parents, missed his home. He might have hated the orphanage and the other orphans. But he never once regretted the wish he had made. Tom was the best friend anybody could ever have. Harry wouldn't trade him for anything in the whole world.

"Who?" Tom asked simply, rubbing his hand up and down Harry's back in a soothing motion.

"Billy Stubbs," Harry managed to choke out, clinging tightly to Tom.

That night, while Harry was curled up in bed, right on the edge of sleep, he felt Tom slip out from under the covers.

"Tom?" Harry asked, sitting up, rubbing at his eyes and trying to make everything less blurry.

"Go back to sleep," Tom said, gently pushing Harry back down and tucking him under the covers.

"Kay," Harry whispered.

He closed his eyes and tried to fall back asleep, but it was hard to do in the empty bed. There was no Tom there to help keep him warm, no Godric to cuddle close to his chest as he tried to fall asleep. Without Tom, the room seemed especially dark, especially cold. Still, Harry screwed his eyes shut, clutched the covers around him even tighter and did his best to fall back asleep.

Harry didn't know how long he lay there, staring at the cinderblock wall, but he was right on the edge of sleep when he heard the door creak open and then closed again. A moment later, the covers were pulled back and cold air rushed in for a moment before Tom slipped underneath them. When the older boy wrapped his arms around him, Harry gave a small smile before letting sleep claim him.

The next morning, when they found Billy Stubb's rabbit hanging from the ceiling, Harry knew exactly who was to blame.

Harry ran back to their room to find Tom reading at the desk. He dashed over and wrapped his arms around him.

"Thank you," Harry whispered. "Thank you."

Tom gave him a wary look.

"You aren't angry?"

Harry just shook his head, clinging to Tom even more tightly. Tom reached out and pulled Harry closer, his long fingers running through Harry's hair.

"You're mine, Harry. My only friend. The most important person." Tom said. "No one is allowed to hurt you."

* * *

 **If you like my writing, and would like to support me and see what I'm up to, I am Dae Richards over on the site that allows you to become a patron. You can also find me on tumblr, where my username is strangesoulmates**


	2. Chapter 2

December of 1937 came, and Harry could hardly contain his excitement. Tom would turn eleven at the end of the month, and that meant he would receive his Hogwarts letter. Harry had been telling Tom stories of the wizarding world since the day they had met, and Harry couldn't wait for Tom to see those things for himself. Harry could barely wait for the supply list to come so that they could take a trip to Diagon Alley together. He had so many things to show Tom!

After he'd given Tom his traditional gift of a magical drawing of a magical creature, with the added bonus of a book on Julius Caesar that Harry had managed to rescue and reassemble from a rubbish bin, they'd both settled in by the small window in their dreary room, waiting for the owl. Harry could barely sit still at first, he was so excited. But then the day dragged on, hour by hour, and as each one passed there was still no owl at the window. Tom was pretending not to care, but Harry could see his friend getting colder and colder, more and more closed off as the time passed.

Harry climbed onto the windowsill, his face pressed against the glass, eyes straining to see something, anything. Tom's letter was coming. Harry knew it. It had to be.

Tom was the most powerful, talented wizard Harry had ever seen. He could do things with just a thought that Harry didn't think his Mum could have done with a wand and months of preparation. Tom's magic was like nothing Harry had ever felt before. There was so much of it. Whenever Tom used it, it filled the entire space. It just grew thicker and thicker the longer he knew him, Tom's magic growing as Tom did.

Tom had to go to Hogwarts. He just had to.

"It's nearly curfew," Tom said, interrupting Harry's vigil.

Harry didn't respond, still staring out the window. He wasn't going to budge. Not until Tom's letter came.

"Harry," Tom said, his voice a little sharper.

Harry still didn't move.

There were footsteps and then a long-fingered hand wrapped around his shoulder and pulled until Harry had no choice but to turn around.

"Come to bed," Tom ordered.

"No!" Harry shouted, jerking himself out of Tom's grip to stare out the window again.

"Harry..." Tom said, a low, warning growl in his voice.

"No!" Harry shouted again, his vision blurring even as he reached up and rubbed furiously at his eyes under his glasses. "No! I'm not moving! Not until you're letter comes!"

Tom said nothing, and Harry could feel the tears beginning to spill down his cheeks.

Harry turned around to face Tom, determined to make his friend understand.

"You deserve it!" Harry said through his tears. "You're the best, most powerful wizard I've ever met and you have to go to Hogwarts. You just have to."

His nose was so clogged he could barely breathe, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was making sure Tom understood.

"You belong in the wizarding world!" Harry shouted. "You do! You're special and amazing, not a freak! It's amazing too, and you belong there! Not here! Why won't the stupid letter come?"

Harry turned back to the window and pounded his fist against it once in pure frustration. Then he lost all control of himself and began weeping in earnest.

"It's not fair," he muttered. "It's not fair. You're the best wizard ever. Why don't they see that? Why?"

Harry found himself surrounded by familiar arms, and he turned to burrow against Tom's chest, wrapping his arms around the older boy tightly.

"I won't go," Harry said stubbornly, his voice muffled by the fabric of Tom's nightgown. "If they don't take you, then I won't go."

"Harry," Tom said softly, his hand coming up to run through his hair.

"No!" Harry said firmly. "There's no point without you. If you don't get to learn magic, then I won't either."

It broke his heart, but Harry knew it was the right choice. Tom was the reason he knew as much about magic as he did. The two of them being together was more important than anything. They'd just figure it out themselves, the way they'd always done.

"You, Harry Potter, are the best friend anyone could have," Tom said, his voice full of affection. "Certainly a better one than I deserve."

Harry pulled back and glared at him.

"You deserve everything," Harry said simply. "All the best."

"We both do," Tom said, reaching up and ruffling Harry's hair.

"Together," Harry insisted firmly.

Tom looked down at Harry, his expression serious, but his eyes soft.

"Of course," Tom said simply, his arms tightening around Harry. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Harry Potter. I'm never going to let you go."

Harry rested his head against Tom's chest and smiled. Even without Hogwarts, they would be okay. After all, Harry had Tom. And Tom had Harry. And that was really all either of them needed.

* * *

It had been over a month, and still no letter had come for Tom. For all that Tom pretended he didn't care, Harry knew his friend better than to believe that. After all these years together, after being the only one Tom trusted, Harry had no trouble at all reading his friend.

Hogwarts had been the dream that the two of them had held close in the dark, cold nights of the orphanage. On the days when the orphanage was filled with sickness and death. Hogwarts was their way out. Hogwarts had been their hope.

To have that hope taken from them had been devastating. Tom refused to show it, but Harry knew.

They needed a new dream, Harry decided. One that could carry them through the next six years and into freedom.

Harry occupied himself with plotting this new dream one February morning while Tom worked his way through the book Harry had given him for the third time. They were magical, obviously. That much couldn't be denied. And Harry knew, more or less, how to get to Diagon Alley. It would help them get what they needed.

They wouldn't become part of the magical world, no. If it didn't want Tom, than Harry wanted nothing to do with it. But they could still use the tools there to help them succeed in the muggle one. They could perfect their magic, train it, learn everything they could. Magic would make them rich. The tricks he'd seen his parents do with a wand would be more than enough to make them succeed in any business they chose. Once they had money, they would have power. They could use the money to get Tom into politics, maybe even become minister one day. It was a roll Harry knew Tom would enjoy. After all, he'd be the most powerful man in the country.

Harry, more than satisfied with this idea, was starting to work out the timeline in his head when there was a sharp knock on the door.

Harry sat upright, and Tom closed his book and placed it on the windowsill. Harry shot Tom a confused look. None of the other orphans would knock, and none of the orphanage staff wanted anything to do with the two of them. They were left to change their own sheets and clean their own room.

Tom just shrugged his shoulders in response, but his face had turned blank, mask carefully in place.

The door was pushed open before they had a chance to respond, and Mrs. Cole stepped inside, her nose red and her eyes glassy. Drunk again, no doubt.

"Tom? You've got a visitor. This is Mr. Dumberton - sorry, Dunderbore. He's come to tell you - well, I'll let him do it."

With that, she backed out of the room and a man entered. As soon as he was inside, Mrs. Cole closed the door behind him.

Harry took one look at the man and broke into a wide smile. He had long, auburn colored hair and a beard that nearly reached his waist. Far from fashionable in the muggle world, but a look Harry had seen more than once in the wizarding world. If that wasn't enough of a hint, the man's suit, made of plum colored velvet of all things, settled any lingering doubts Harry might have had. This man was a wizard, Harry was certain of it.

"You're here to give Tom his letter, aren't you?" Harry said, too excited to keep his thoughts to himself.

Tom cast Harry a quick look of surprise before turning his attention to the man in front of him, studying him intently. The wizard didn't notice, however, giving Harry a searching look, his blue eyes feeling almost like they were peering into Harry's soul.

Then the wizard smiled, his eyes softening and beginning to twinkle.

"Yes, my boy. That is exactly what I am here to do."

The wizard turned and held out his hand to Tom.

"Professor Dumbledore, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he said. "How do you do, Tom?"

Tom reached out and shook the professor's hand, a somewhat guarded look on his face.

"Professor," Tom said blandly in response.

Tom released the professor's hand and made his way over to the bed, taking a seat on the gray comforter before wrapping an arm around Harry protectively.

"Why didn't you send Tom his letter?" Harry asked, giving the professor an accusing glare. "We waited all day for it!"

Tom said nothing, but he stared at the professor, clearly looking for an answer.

"The letters for those students who are unaware of the magical community are usually delivered by members of the staff. What would you think if you didn't know magic was real? Would you believe it if you received a letter delivered by an owl that told you you'd been accepted to a school called Hogwarts which taught magic?" the man asked patiently.

Harry had to take a moment and really think about it. After all, magic had always been a part of his life. His mother had made certain he was familiar with the muggle world and he'd spent the last three years living in it.

"I...I don't think I'd believe you," Harry said slowly. "I'd think it was a prank."

Dumbledore nodded sagely.

"Exactly," Dumbledore said. "Muggleborn children and their parents need more than the letter to really believe what's happening. They need a demonstration. They need evidence. They'll have questions, since they won't have gone to the school itself. That's why staff members deliver the letter in person, to provide any explanations that are needed."

Harry crossed his arms. What the professor said had made sense, but that didn't mean Harry was happy about it. He'd made Tom think that he didn't belong in the wizarding world, and Harry wasn't going to forgive that any time soon.

"I didn't know I was expected," Dumbledore said in apologetic tone of voice as he took the seat Tom had just vacated. "I am sorry for any anxiety I may have caused you, Tom. Still, I must confess this is not a situation I run into, especially during these visits. How did you come to learn of Hogwarts?"

Harry considered carefully before answering, casting a look at Tom. He missed his Mum and Dad, yeah. But Tom...he wasn't going to leave Tom behind. Not if he could help it.

So Harry lied.

"I was six when my parents died," Harry said simply. "I was supposed to go to my muggle relatives, but they didn't want me."

It was easy for Harry to imagine the circumstances. If, somehow, he had been supposed to go to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, Harry could easily imagine how things would have unfolded.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said.

Harry didn't have to pretend at sadness. He was sad about not being with his parents anymore, at least a little bit. All he had to do was focus on that feeling. He brought it forward before cuddling even further against Tom. He was rewarded with a hand running up and down his back, and he looked up just long enough to give Tom a quick smile, letting him know he was really okay before huddling against his side.

"I don't remember much about them, but I miss them," Harry said simply.

"I'm certain you do, my dear boy," the professor said, his voice kind. "Your parents were magical then?"

Harry nodded.

"I made friends with Tom," Harry said. "When I saw him doing accidental magic, I told him what it was," Harry said, proud of himself for being sure that Tom didn't stay in the dark about the world that he was supposed to be a part of.

"Excellent," Professor Dumbledore said with a smile, his blue eyes twinkling behind his glasses. "So, Tom, tell me, what do you know about Hogwarts?" he asked, turning his attention to Tom.

"There are four houses," Tom said, his tone neutral. "Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Each house emphasizes different traits."

"What house do you think you're going to be in?" Dumbledore asked.

"Ravenclaw or Slytherin," Tom said simply.

"Ah," Dumbledore said, the twinkle in his eyes dimming somewhat. He looked at Tom intently, and Harry could feel Tom stiffen next to him. "Tell me, Tom, what sorts of accidental magic have you done?"

"Harry and I haven't done anything accidental in a long time," he said his voice filled with pride, his neck and cheeks flushed with excitement. ""I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

It sounded worse than it was. Some might call it revenge, but Harry thought it was justice. To survive, you had to fight. The orphanage had taught him that much. Had taught him that to be different was enough to earn you hatred. Power was the only way to stay safe.

Harry hadn't known what Tom was going to do to Dennis and Amy. Honest, he hadn't. Harry didn't even think Tom had known what he was going to do to Amy and Dennis. He seemed almost as surprised as Harry with the results. But as much as he knew he should feel bad, Harry couldn't bring himself to do it. Because Amy and Dennis had been horrible to him and Tom. There was a part of him that felt like they'd deserved what they had gotten.

Harry might have had his doubts, but what had happened afterwards had been more than enough to lay them to rest. No one had so much as looked as them funny since the rumors about what had happened to Dennis and Amy had begun to spread. Everyone had left them alone. Everyone. He and Tom got to pick their food first, got first choice of the limited number of toys the orphanage had, first pick of the even slimmer offerings of the small library that was really just a lopsided bookcase.

For the first time, they were safe.

Still, Professor Dumbledore was staring at Tom with narrowed eyes, the twinkle entirely gone.

"Would you like a demonstration, Tom? Of the sorts of things you could do with your magic fully trained?"

"Yes," Tom said simply, his eyes shining brightly.

"Are you planning on taking your place at Hogwarts, Mr. Riddle?"

"Yes," Tom answered.

"Then you will address me as 'Professor' or 'sir.'" Professor Dumbledore said, his eyes hard.

Tom's expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he said, in the polite voice he used when he wanted to be charming, "I'm sorry, sir. I meant — please, Professor, could you show me — ?"

The professor reached into a pocket of his muggle suit and pulled out his wand. Harry found himself leaning forward, barely checking his excitement.

The Professor flicked his wand towards the small wardrobe the two of them shared, and it burst into flames.

Harry was on his feet immediately, shouting in shock, anger and hurt burning within him. Everything they owned was in there. Every piece of clothing. All their precious memories. Every gift Harry had ever made for Tom. All of it consumed in fire.

Harry darted towards the wardrobe, determined to save something, only to be stopped by Tom's hand gripping his arm, jerking Harry behind him, putting himself firmly between Harry and Dumbledore.

Harry stared at the wardrobe, tears welling in his eyes. Everything. They'd just lost everything.

The Professor flicked his wand again, and flames were gone, the wardrobe standing entirely untouched. Harry managed to wrench himself free of Tom and rush over to the doors pulling them open. Everything was there. All their clothes. Harry could just make out the shape of the box of treasures on the top shelf.

Tom was saying something to the professor, but Harry wasn't listening. Instead he collapsed on the floor in front of the wardrobe, the stone jarring his knees painfully. Harry didn't care. He was too busy crying to pay attention to anything like that.

A moment later, there was a hand around his arm, gently tugging him upright. Harry let himself be pulled up before he buried his face against Tom's chest, muffling his sobs in the grey tunic they were all forced to wear.

"It's alright," Tom said, running his hand up and down Harry's back. "It's alright. Everything's fine, Harry. Nothing happened to any of our things. It's all alright."

Harry pulled away from Tom long enough to turn to the Professor, who was staring at Harry with wide blue eyes.

"Why?" Harry asked him through his tears. "Why would you do something like that? Magic...magic is fun and beautiful! Why would you do that?" Harry's could barely see he was crying so hard, but he didn't let that keep him from glaring.

"You a mean man!" Harry declared. "You're supposed to make kids excited to go to school! To show them how fun magic can be! Not make them think you've destroyed the only things they own!"

Dumbledore stared at Harry in shock, but Harry didn't want to look at him any more. He turned and buried his face in Tom's tunic once again, his hands fisting tightly in the fabric.

"I..." the man began before stopping again. "I'm sorry, Harry. You're absolutely right."

Harry sniffed and turned around, giving Dumbledore the evil eye from within Tom's arms.

"I'm sorry to have distressed you so. I confess that I did not consider your feelings on the matter as carefully as I should. Will you forgive me?"

Harry glared at him and said nothing.

The Professor sighed heavily but did not push any further. Instead he turned to Tom and began to speak once again.

"At Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, "we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have — inadvertently, I am sure — been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you. But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic — yes, there is a Ministry — will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws."

Tom went stiff against Harry. Harry didn't think he'd ever hated anyone more than he hated Professor Dumbledore in that moment.

"Yes sir," Tom said, his voice entirely devoid of any emotion.

"Very well then," Professor Dumbledore said, standing up and passing an envelope over to Tom. "This is your Hogwarts letter. It includes not only your acceptance, but additional information about the school. Enclosed is also your supply list for the year."

"I haven't got any money," Tom said.

"That is easily remedied," Dumbledore said, pulling a leather pouch from his belt. One that clicked when it moved. He handed the pouch to Tom. "There is a fund at Hogwarts for those who require assistance buying robes and books. You might need to purchase some of your spellbooks and materials second hand, but the fund should be enough to allow you to purchase what is required."

Tom nodded stiffly.

"How do I get to Diagon Ally, Professor?" he asked, placing the pouch of money on the bed.

"I will show you," the Professor said. "As well as the best places to -"

"I think you've already helped us enough, sir." Tom said, his voice hard.

Dumbledore's shoulders slumped at that, and his eyes darted to where Harry was still huddled in Tom's embrace.

"Perhaps you are right," the man said softly, a disappointed look on his face.

Dumbledore gave them detailed directions on how to get from the orphanage to the Leaky Cauldron, the entrance to Diagon Alley.

"You will be able to see the pub, but the muggles around you will not. " Dumbledore said. "Inside the pub, you should ask for Tom. He will take you to the entrance."

Tom nodded.

"All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope," said Dumbledore. "You will leave from King's Cross Station on the first of September. There is a train ticket in there too." Riddle nodded. Dumbledore got to his feet and held out his hand again.

Harry pointedly turned away, hiding his face against Tom's chest. Tom reached out and took the professor's hand and shook it, but Harry could see from his vantage point that he was all but glaring at the man. The handshake lasted only for a moment before it was broken.

"Good-bye, Tom. I shall see you at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, making his way towards the door. Just before he left, he turned and addressed Harry. "I am sorry my dear boy. I do hope that the next time I see you, things between us will go better."

Harry glared at his back as he left. He didn't think he'd be forgiving Professor Dumbledore anytime soon.

* * *

Tom's first year at Hogwarts was absolute hell for Harry. It only took a few weeks for the other orphans to realize that without Tom there to protect him, he was an easy target. Harry couldn't defend himself. Not as well as he needed to. After his time with Tom, Harry had much better control of his magic than he had ever imagined, even without a wand. Harry could warm his clothes and his blanket to keep himself from freezing during the cold winter nights. He could make a small sphere of light appear after lights out so that he could sit up in bed and read. He could, if he was trying hard enough, make himself disappear, make it so the bullies forgot about him.

But he couldn't hurt them. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't do it. And once the children of the orphanage figured that out, well...it was open season on Harry. All the children were determined to repay Harry for the hurt and humiliation and fear Tom had put them through.

Harry had taken to hiding his belongings, those things he really cared about, in a loose floorboard under the bed. Anything he left in the wardrobe would be destroyed, torn to shreds or ink dumped all over it or worse. Every time Harry had to explain to the matron that he needed another uniform, he was punished. The time not spent in school or being tormented by the others was spent doing extra chores to make up for his waste.

Life had been hell since Tom had left.

Still, Harry didn't breathe a word of it to Tom. He couldn't. Tom's letters made it clear just how much he loved it at school, for all that he was frustrated. His housemates had treated him with distain when they thought him a muggleborn, but his knowledge of the wizarding world had quickly convinced them that he was a halfblood instead, which, while distasteful, was at least tolerable in Slytherin. After that little hiccup at the start of the year, it seemed that everything was going Tom's way. All the teachers adored him, and the house points he won along with his skill in magic, had earned him the respect of his house.

Tom had made friends, though he didn't call them that. "I've begun making connections," Tom had written, and it had made Harry grin. Tom been invited to stay with someone over Christmas break. As miserable as he was, Harry had encouraged Tom. Tom deserved to be happy. It would be selfish to keep his best friend from doing something he clearly wanted to.

Tom's only complaint about the castle was that his classes were far too easy.

"You and I have already figured out most of the curriculum on our own," one of Tom's letters had said. "Still, the library is impressive." Tom's description of his extra-circular studies made Harry's head spin, but he was happy that Tom was happy.

Still, in a small, secret part of his heart, Harry hated Hogwarts.

Tom's letters, which had been weekly at the start, had started coming less and less frequently. Harry, having no owl of his own, couldn't even write Tom unless the older boy wrote him first. Those letters started to be filled with names Harry didn't know, and Tom had begun to speak of Hogwarts as home.

Tom was Harry's home. He had been for a long time.

Harry was terrified that he was losing Tom. That Tom would forget about him in favor of his new life at Hogwarts. That'd he'd begin to see Harry as nothing more than an annoyance, the way he did most people.

Harry's eyes filled with tears at the thought, and he tried to pretend it was because of his arm. Billy Stubbs had shoved him down the stairs earlier, and Harry was certain if it weren't for his magic, he would have broken his neck. His head didn't hit the floor nearly as hard as it should have after falling down a flight of stairs. Still, he'd broken his arm in the process.

Of course, it had happened during the week Harry's punishment was supposed to start for his latest round of "destruction of property." So instead of the cleaning the matron had clearly planned, he'd been locked in his room and put on a diet of bread and water.

Tom was supposed to come home this week. Harry didn't know when, exactly. He'd lost track of the time while locked in the room. But Tom was coming home.

Harry didn't want Tom to see him like this. For all that Tom had protected him when they were both younger, Harry knew Tom hated weakness. He was terrified that if Tom came back from Hogwarts, where he had made such rich and powerful friends, to find Harry a pathetic weakling of an orphan, that Tom would sneer at him. He could just picture Tom staring at him with disgust, and the thought of it finally brought the tears streaming down his face.

He muffled them in his pillow. There was no reason to provide the others with more ammunition. He was hated enough already.

Tears streaming down his face, Harry carefully pulled himself out of bed, his whole body sore and aching. He jostled his arm as he dropped to his knees and hissed in pain, but he powered through it. He was used to being injured, at this point. Careful of his arm, Harry pried the floorboard up one-handed.

Harry reached inside, ignoring the bits of food he'd managed to smuggle, his books, and all the rest of it in favor of a sheaf of parchment. Removing the pile with care, Harry covered his hideaway before dragging himself back to bed, Tom's letters clutched in his hand.

They were worn, the edges crumpled and the ink slightly faint from how many times he'd taken them out to reread them, how many time's Harry had turned to them for reassurance, to assuage his loneliness.

Tears still falling, Harry managed to work his way through the first half before exhaustion and pain pulled him down into slumber.

* * *

Harry woke slowly, the afternoon sunlight shining directly in his eyes. He winced and brought his hand up to cover them, realizing a moment too late that he'd used the wrong arm. Harry let out a cry of pain, letting the arm fall back to where it had been before, gritting his teeth against the agony that shot through him.

Then suddenly a hand was on his arm, and a moment later Harry felt relief like cool water wash through him. Harry stared down at it in wonder, tentatively moving it only to smile in delight when there was no pain. Harry looked up, a wide smile on his face, only to freeze when he saw who exactly the hand belonged to.

Tom. Tom was here, sitting on the bed beside Harry. Staring down at him with a blank mask that Harry knew never lead to anything good.

Harry set his shoulders. He didn't care. If this was going to be one of his last moments as Tom's friend, then he was going to make the most of it.

He threw himself forward, wrapping his arms around Tom as tightly as he could, eyes burning.

"You're here," Harry said, his voice hoarse from disuse. "You're back!"

Tom's arms closed around him, so tight it would have been painful even without the bruises that decorated Harry's back. It didn't matter. No matter how much it hurt, Harry didn't care. It was the best feeling in the world.

"I'm here," Tom said simply.

"I missed you," Harry confessed into Tom's shirt. "I missed you so much."

Tom's arms tightened, and Harry felt himself tensing, waiting for the blow that he was certain would come. Tom hadn't missed him at all. Tom had other, better friends now. Friends more useful that a poor orphan who couldn't even protect himself.

"I missed you too," Tom said.

Harry couldn't believe his ears. He looked up, eyes wide, staring intently at Tom's face. Tom was an excellent liar, but Harry had known him long enough that he could spot a lie, even if he couldn't hear one.

But there was no sign of deception on Tom's face. Just a soft look as he reached up and ran a hand through Harry's hair, with something burning in his dark eyes, something familiar.

It should have made him feel scared. Harry knew it terrified everyone else. But it just made him feel safe.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Harry set his jaw and averted his eyes.

"Nothing," he said simply.

"You've always been a terrible liar," Tom said, his voice hard. A hand wrapped around Harry's chin and he found his head turning until he was staring right into Tom's eyes. "What happened?" Tom demanded once again, his voice laced with his magic.

Harry felt his mouth opening, poised to respond, but he clenched it shut as hard as he could, screwing his eyes closed to keep the words from bubbling past his lips. When he felt the impulse to talk in spite of himself fade, he opened his eyes again.

Tom was staring down at him, his frustration obvious but undercut by a look of grudging respect.

"You're too stubborn for your own good," he said.

Tom closed his eyes and shook his head until he looked up again, his expression totally different.

"Please, Harry," Tom said simply. "Please."

Tom never said please. Not to anyone. Not even Harry.

Harry did the only thing he could do under the circumstances. He began to speak. He told Tom about what his time had been like since Tom had left, spoke of the torment and the bullying and the hunger. Spoke of the endless chores and the exhaustion that they brought him. When he was done, he stared down at the bedspread, too ashamed to meet Tom's gaze.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Tom asked, his voice strangled. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to think I was weak," Harry said, tracing patters across the tattered blanket. "I...I didn't want you to stop."

"To stop what?" Tom asked.

"Caring about me," Harry answered.

Tom's hand gripped his chin, and Harry's head was forced up until he found himself looking into Tom's dark eyes.

"Harry James Potter," Tom said, his voice trembling, eyes shining with emotion. "You are mine. You've been mine since the moment magic brought us together. You are mine and I am never going to give you up. Nothing is going to take you from me."

Tom reached forward and wrapped his arms around Harry again.

"You are the one good thing I've ever had," Tom said simply. "You are the only one who has seen every side of me and yet stayed by my side. The only person who understands and accepts me."

Tom reached out and brushed Harry's hair back from his forehead before leaning down and pressing a kiss to it.

"You're the only person I truly care for. You are the one thing I need. And I am never letting go."

Tom's dark eyes were burning with intensity as he stared at Harry, one hand cupping his cheek.

"Do you understand me?" Tom asked.

Harry, eyes burning, nodded. He threw himself forward, wrapping his arms around Tom.

"I love you," Harry said. "I love you so much, Tom."

If Harry had looked up, he would have seen the thunderstruck expression on Tom's face. Shock too deep and profound to hide. It was soon replaced by wonder and affection as he stared down at the boy in his lap.

"I love you too," Tom answered at last, his voice unbearably soft, a hint of wonder in the words as he spoke them, as if he could hardly believe they were coming out of his mouth.

Harry gave a happy sigh and curled up even more tightly against Tom. For the first time in months, Harry felt complete.

* * *

 **If you like my writing, and would like to support me and see what I'm up to, I am Dae Richards over on the site that allows you to become a patron. You can also find me on tumblr, where my username is strangesoulmates**


	3. Chapter 3

**Harry goes to Hogwarts**

* * *

Harry followed Tom into King's Cross Station, holding the other boy's hand tightly as he looked around the space, barely keeping his excitement in check. He'd been to the station before. After Tom's first year, Harry'd taken to waiting at the station whenever Tom would come back. Something Tom now did every time he had the opportunity to do so. For all that he'd tried to hide it, he'd clearly been upset when Harry had confessed how alone he'd felt, how scared he was that Tom was going to leave him behind. Tom had been putting those fears to rest with a vengeance for the last year. He wrote Harry every day, and expected replies to each. Ones with honest answers about how Harry had been.

Tom had made it clear during the summer between his first and second year that just because he wasn't around didn't mean that people wouldn't be punished for hurting Harry. Even hurting and scared, Harry could see in their eyes that now that they'd had a taste of vengeance, they weren't about to give it up. Tom had clearly seen it too, because he spent most of that summer teaching Harry every defensive spell he knew. Harry could manage almost all of them, but he still struggled when it came to actually hurting people. He'd looked up at Tom, afraid to see disappointment in his eyes, but had been met with a thoughtful expression instead.

"You've always had this problem," Tom said at last.

Harry shook his head. It wasn't true. He'd managed to make the other orphans hurt before, when he was angry enough.

"Yes," Tom said, once Harry had made his point, "but in all those circumstances, it was when you were defending someone else, not yourself." Tom shook his head. "You'll do whatever it takes to defend someone else, but simply can't apply the same standards to yourself."

Harry stared up at Tom in shock. He was right. He was absolutely right.

"Is that a bad thing?" Harry asked him.

"Not at all, dearest," Tom said, and Harry found himself flushing with pleasure at the name. It was something Tom had been using ever since he'd come back, and Harry loved it. Every time Tom said it, it reminded him that the older boy really did care about Harry. "It simply means that I will simply have to protect you myself."

After that, he'd started teaching Harry different kind of spells, or suggesting different things he could try and make his magic do. Ways to distract the others long enough for Harry to get away, ways to make them forget about him. Things that Harry's magic took to easily.

Harry had seen Tom off, and Tom had hugged Harry tightly before he left, placing a kiss to the top of Harry's head. When Tom had pulled away, there had been something hanging from Harry's neck.

"It will protect you," Tom had said simply. "Keep you safe while I'm away."

"Tom..." Harry said, staring down at it in wonder. "Where did you get this? I thought you weren't allowed to do magic over the summer."

"I bought it," Tom said simply. "I shall make you a better one when I get to school."

Harry had been touched. Tom's money was barely enough to cover his school expenses. Yet he'd spent what had to be a dear sum on keeping Harry safe.

And it had done exactly that. Tom kept changing it, making it better, stronger. As grateful as Harry was for what it did, he cared much more about what it meant. Tom cared. Tom cared about him, and wanted to keep him safe. Even at his own expense.

The newest version which Tom had brought with him at the beginning of the summer was tucked under Harry's shirt even now, it's weight comforting and familiar.

Still, it was the last thing on his mind now. Harry could barely keep his excitement in check. This time he wouldn't be left behind, staring at the scarlet steam engine as it chugged away. No, today Harry would be boarding the Hogwarts express along with Tom.

Harry could barely sit still by the time they had boarded the train and found a compartment, and Tom was giving him a fond smile.

"Tell me about the houses again," Harry said.

Tom rolled his eyes, but did as Harry had asked.

"Hufflepuff," Tom said, "is the house of those who value hard work, fairness, and loyalty. Most people think they're useless, but underestimating Hufflepuffs is a mistake," Tom said simply. "After all, their loyalty, once won, is absolute, and there isn't much they would not do to protect those who they are loyal to."

Harry privately thought that sounded more than a bit like him, and from the look Tom was giving him, he wasn't the only one.

"Ravenclaw is the house of the wise, for those who favor knowledge above all else," Tom continued. "This by no means implies they are the most intelligent house. In fact, most of them are entirely too concerned with learning to care at all about their grades."

Harry snickered, unable to help himself. Tom clearly took issue with the fact that most people thought that Ravenclaws were the smartest. Tom himself was brilliant. Harry knew that, and he was certain that all of Tom's professors did at that point as well, what with him having been the top student in every subject he'd taken for the last two years. Even Professor Dumbledore, who still hated Tom for reasons that Harry would never understand, was forced to give Tom high marks, even though Tom made it clear that the man refused to give him house points he earned and took them away at every opportunity.

It hadn't done anything to stop Tom from helping Slytherin to win the house cup his second year. Apparently they would have won with ease all two years if it weren't for quiddich, which Tom had come to loath. Harry, though, thought it sounded exciting. He couldn't wait for his first flying lesson.

"Then there's Gryffindor," Tom said with a sneer.

You didn't have to be an expert in reading people to know how Tom felt about Gryffindor. He was practically dripping with distain.

"Called the brave and chivalrous, I've never met a bigger bunch of pig-headed, stubborn idiots in my life."

Most of Tom's trouble, Harry knew, had come from Gryffindor. At least after he'd gotten the problems in Slytherin sorted out and won them all over with his ambition. But there was a rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin that was far from friendly. There were a handful of students, apparently, who thought that Slytherins were evil, and were eager to punish them for having been sorted into the wrong house.

"Of course, there is Slytherin," Tom said, pride filling his voice. "The house for the ambitious and the cunning. My house."

Harry stared down at his hands, fidgeting with his robes, worry creeping over him.

"Tom," Harry said, "what if I'm not sorted into Slytherin with you? I'm not very ambitious. I just...I mostly just want to be left alone."

Attention, Harry had learned long ago, rarely lead to anything good.

"If you're not sorted into Slytherin," Tom said, wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulders, "then I will simply ensure that you have the password to our common room. While the houses typically eat at their own tables, there's no rule that requires it. You and I can eat together as often as you want. We'll meet in the library and go over your coursework together, and you can help me with my projects."

Tom leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of Harry's head.

"Nothing will change between us, no matter your house," Tom said simply. "I'm not letting you go, Harry. Not ever."

"Not even if I get sorted into Gryffindor?" Harry asked.

"Not even then," Tom said. "You're mine, Harry. And nothing is going to change that."

Harry smiled up at Tom, his worries laid to rest, and snuggled against his friend's shoulder, looking at the hubbub of families and students on the platform outside.

There was a knock on the door to their compartment, and Harry sat up, turning to face the door.

"Enter," Tom called out casually, still winding his fingers through Harry's hair as he often did when they were sitting together like this.

The door slid open to reveal a group of four or so boys, all of them dressed in robes, though they didn't look like the simple black robes Harry himself had inherited from Tom. Wizards, then. Ones who lived in the wizarding world. These were just their everyday clothes.

Harry couldn't help but be curious. He'd been born in the wizarding world, had spent the first six years of his life a part of it, but there were things he didn't remember, things he hadn't had the chance to learn. He was eager to fill in the gaps that meeting Tom had left.

"Riddle," the one in front said, hair so blond is looked white falling to his shoulders tied back.

His voice was full of respect, and Harry could help the surge of pride that went through him. Tom was clever and powerful, the best wizard there was. It was only right that these purebloods recognize that and treat him with the respect he deserved.

"Abraxus," Tom said simply. An acknowledgement and nothing more.

Harry grinned. If they wanted to join them, they would have to ask, apparently.

"May we join you, Riddle?" Abraxus asked.

"If you can all agree to behave yourselves, yes," Tom said.

Harry knew that tone of voice. It was a promise and a threat all rolled into one. Anyone who "misbehaved" in Tom's eyes would be punished for it. From the looks on all their faces, the group in the doorway knew it as well. Still, with masks firmly in place, they all made their way inside, each sitting on the bench opposite where Tom sat.

It was only when they had settled in that they notice him, and Harry saw their shock before they masked it. Or at least they tried to. They were nowhere near as good at it as Tom was, and Harry could easily see that their eyes were still wide with surprise.

"Who might this be?" Abraxas asked.

"Harry," Tom said, ignoring the boys on the bench across from him, "that is Abraxas Malfoy."

Harry blinked a little in surprise. The name was familiar, but he couldn't quite figure out why. One of his parents must have mentioned a Malfoy before. Harry sat up, eyeing the older boy with interest. None of this escaped Tom's notice, and he gave Harry a searching look before turning a hard look on Malfoy. The boy quelled under the glare, but Tom only narrowed his eyes at him before turning his attention to Harry, arching one eyebrow in a silent demand for information.

Harry gave a small shake of his head before tilting it towards the other people in the compartment. In response, Tom reached into his pocket, pulling it out and waving it in a complicated pattern, his magic surging briefly through the air before it settled.

"They won't hear us," Tom said simply in explanation, putting his wand back in his pocket. "Now, why did you react to Malfoy's name?"

"I think I've heard it before," Harry answered. "I think my parents knew a Malfoy."

Tom grasped the significance of this at once, as Harry had known he would.

"You believe Malfoy might know your parents."

"Or one of his relatives, yeah," Harry said.

Tom's lips pressed into a frown, and Harry could see that the idea of it upset him. Harry reached out and grabbed Tom's hands in one of his own, giving his friend a stern look.

"Don't be an idiot," Harry said. "I'm not going to leave you behind. You're my best friend, Tom. I'm not going anywhere you aren't."

Tom relaxed somewhat, but there was still a frown on his face.

"The orphanage is hardly a safe or nurturing place," Tom said. "Getting you back to your parents would get you out of it."

"I'm not going anywhere without you," Harry said. That was the end of the matter, as far as Harry was concerned.

"Harry..." Tom began.

"No," Harry said, interrupting him. It didn't matter what Tom said. Nothing was going to change his mind. "Magic itself knows that I need you more than I ever needed them. I'm not going anywhere without you."

Tom's response was to tug him closer, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"Stubborn brat," Tom said, but his voice was fond.

Harry nodded, a determined look on his face. He was never going to leave Tom behind.

But his parents had been good people. Nice people. And they'd talked about giving Harry a sibling...

"If we find them," Harry said, the idea coming together slowly in his head, "I bet we could get them to take you too."

Harry nodded in excitement. The more he thought about it, the more he was sure of it.

"They'll be so happy to have me back that they would do anything I asked," Harry said. "They were really overprotective, but they also spoiled me a lot. They wouldn't leave you there," Harry said. "Not once I told them how the other orphans treated us. Not when I explained that you were family, that you'd protected me. I won't go anywhere without you Tom," Harry said, a disbelieving smile on his face. "Which means they'd have to take you to."

Tom stared down at Harry, an intent look of concentration on his face.

"It's an idea worth exploring," he said at last, and Harry beamed. "I'll see what his family might know about yours tonight after the feast."

With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled down the spell he had put up, and Harry turned his attention back to the rest of Tom's friends. He was fairly certain he could guess at their names from the letters Tom had sent them. He was right. Knott, Rosier, and Avery were the other three.

"This," Tom said when he was finished, "is Harry Potter. He is my closest and dearest friend."

The four traded looks of surprise, and Harry tilted his chin up, daring them to say something. He knew he was only a little kid in their eyes, but he had earned the title of Tom's best friend several times over. No one was going to usurp him. Not if he had anything to say about it.

"I expect all of you to offer him any assistance he requires," Tom said, fixing each boy in turn with a dark look. "Am I clear?"

"Crystal clear, Riddle," Avery said, the others soon following suit with answers of their own.

"Regardless of what house he ends up in, he is welcome in the Slytherin Common room at any time. I expect him to be treated with respect," Tom said, glaring at all of them.

There was another round of affirmations, and then Tom settled back in his seat, a satisfied look on his face.

"Good," he said simply. "I expect you to ensure that the rest of the house is informed as well."

It was Avery who addressed him directly.

"What house do you think you'll end up in, Potter?" he asked.

"I don't know," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. "Hufflepuff, probably."

From what he knew about he houses, it seemed like the best fit. After all, because of Tom, he was more than used to hard work. And he was loyal to Tom. He would do anything for him.

The boys began to snicker, and Tom sat up straight, a hard look on his face.

"Is there something amusing?" Tom asked them, turning a dark glare on each of them in turn, twirling his wand between his fingers.

The all quieted at once, fear on their faces, but it wasn't enough. Tom was out for blood.

"Harry," Tom said simply, not taking his eyes away from the four other boys in the compartment. "Why don't you show these boys exactly what you can do?"

Harry nodded and closed his eyes. He'd been working on this all summer, but he hadn't had it done well enough to show Tom. Concentrating on where his magic lived, Harry gathered it to his hands, holding them apart as he focused hard on exactly what it was he wanted. When at last the magic had built enough he released it with a small shout and opened his eyes.

Sitting in his lap was green snake, exactly as he had hoped. He turned to Tom and held it up with a proud smile, thrilled he'd managed to get it right the first time he'd done it.

Snakes had been their dear friends in the orphanage. Tom, to Harry's wonder, had been able to talk to them, and would translate conversations for Harry with a put-upon tone. They'd kept their fair share in their room in the orphanage as pets, Harry glad for the company, Tom impressed with their usefulness. Tom had sent a snake after those that had tormented them more than once, and Harry privately treasured the look of fear on their faces when the small snakes had struck. It was about time that the tables had been turned.

Everyone was afraid of snakes. Harry didn't understand why. They were sweet, and their scales were nice and dry and smooth. When they weren't afraid, they were very affectionate, eager to soak up as much warmth as possible, and Harry loved to walk around with a snake wrapped around his wrist. Tom enjoyed having someone to speak with, and Harry never tired of watching him talk to the latest snake they had taken in.

Still, it always ended the same. The matron was terrified of snakes, and when she discovered they were keeping one, she would have it killed. Then she would punish Harry and Tom for having snuck it in in the first place.

Harry was tired of seeing his friends die, tired of the look of helpless rage on Tom's face each time it happened. So he'd been practicing bringing snakes to him and sending them away. That way, they could still have their pets, and the matron would be none the wiser.

"Do you like her?" Harry asked him. "Her name's Nagini."

Tom said nothing, staring between the snake and Harry in wonder.

"She's amazing," Tom said simply, reaching out and picking the snake up carefully in his hands. Then he began to hiss at her.

There was a thud and several gasps, and Harry turned to find all of the boys staring at Tom in open-mouthed shock that they weren't even trying to hide. Rosier had even fallen off his seat, his mouth hanging open.

"What?"Harry asked.

"He...he's a parselmouth?" Malfoy said, eyes wide. "Riddle is a parselmouth?"

"What's a parselmouth?" Harry asked.

"He can speak to snakes," Nott answered absentmindedly, his eyes still fixed on Tom.

"Oh." Harry said. "Yeah. Tom's always been able to talk to snakes. Why?" Harry asked, taking in their expressions.

"Only one family in Britain has ever had the ability to speak to snakes," Malfoy answered, his voice reverent. "Only the direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin have the talent."

"The heir," Rosier whispered in awe. "He's the heir of Slytherin."

"I can't be," Avery said, shaking his head. "It just can't be. He's a halfblood, for Merlin's sake! None of Salazar's decedents would ever lower themselves enough to have relations with a muggle."

"He can speak parseltongue," Rosier said. "He's a Slytherin. He has to be."

Tom, who had clearly been listening, gave a smile that had the other four shuddering.

"The Heir of Slytherin, you say? How interesting."

Tom had his plotting face on, so Harry left him be. The other four excused themselves and practically rushed out the door, eager to spread the word, no doubt. Harry simply curled up against Tom's side and played with Nagini, smiling as she wove between his fingers before finally curling around his wrist. When the others had left, Harry titled his head back so that he could see Tom's face while still resting against him.

"What are you thinking about?" Harry asked him.

"Exactly how lucky I am to have you in my life." Tom answered simply. Then he bent down and pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead. "Thank you, Harry. I'm certain I would have discovered this eventually, but thanks to you I have enough time to plan properly."

"Plan what?" Harry asked.

"The future, my dear." Tom answered simply, fingers running through Harry's hair. "Our future. And what it means for the rest of the wizarding world."

The rest of the train ride was spent with Slytherins coming and going, all determined to see proof of Tom's talent. Proof Tom was happy to provide. Harry tuned out the endless string of introductions and groveling, turning his attention instead to his books. He'd read them all before, of course. Every year, Tom left his books behind for Harry to read through and practice with, even going so far as to give him assignments while Tom was in school. Still, it had been awhile, and he wanted to be sure he still remembered what he needed to know.

He had his copy of Hogwarts, A History open on his lap, and was reading every section with information on Salazar Slytherin that he could find, eager to see if he could glean anything new. Still, he didn't feel like he'd made any progress at all by the time the train finally began to slow.

Tom all but ordered the remaining Slytherins who had lingered out before locking the door behind them. When they were gone, Tom summoned both their trunks down.

"Go ahead and change into your robes. We'll be there any minute now."

Harry did as he was told, the boredom from before gone with a sudden surge of excitement and nervousness. With trembling hands, he pulled his third-hand robes on. Tom had bought them used and given them to Harry. Still, Tom's skill at charms for mending and transfiguring clothing was extensive, and they looked almost new once they had been resized. Since Harry had been able to reuse so many of Tom's old things, and Tom had been funding his own schooling with things he'd managed to win or steal from his housemates, they were able to open a Gringotts account. One that Tom had begun investing.

If Tom was right, and Tom was always right, they'd have more than enough to ensure that they could afford new school materials the following year. Not just that, but have enough saved to invest again.

Harry didn't mind. Tom had offered to use both their money to purchase him new materials. Tom didn't want Harry to suffer the way he had, always wanting to take care of him. But Harry didn't mind. He actually liked the idea of using Tom's old books, wearing his old robes. It made him feel even closer to Tom.

Harry pulled on his robes and examined himself, smiling. Tom's charms work had been perfect. The robes fit perfectly, and they looked almost brand new. Certainly not like the third-hand things they really were.

Harry glanced up and gave Tom a smile, which his friend returned. Tom looked very handsome in his robes, which Tom had managed to charm to look brand new. The Slytherin coat of arms on the robe suited him.

"Your family crest!" Harry said, realizing it. "You're wearing your family crest."

Tom looked down at his robe and smirked.

"Yes. Yes, I suppose I am."

The train slowed to a stop, and Harry glanced out the window to find they had arrived at a train station. He bit his lip and looked up at Tom, equal parts nervous and excited.

"It'll be alright," Tom said, putting a hand at the small of Harry's back. "No matter what, Harry, I promise you that."

It seemed like Harry had blinked his eyes and found himself standing on the platform, Tom at his side.

"First years!" A man called. "First years, follow me!"

Harry glanced at Tom, and the older boy nodded in encouragement.

"Go on," Tom said. "I'll see you after the Welcoming Feast."

Harry nodded and biting his lip, he made his way over to the small crowd of first years. As he was waiting, a boy approached him. He had long, dark hair that was carefully pulled back from his face. He had grey eyes above sharp cheekbones. His robes were nice, and he carried himself like someone who was used to attention. Handsome, Harry supposed. Nowhere as handsome as Tom, though.

"Are you Harry Potter?" the boy asked.

Harry nodded, confused.

"My brother said I had to be nice to you," he said, a sneer on his face. "Even though you're a mudblood."

Harry remembered enough about the wizarding world to know exactly what that word meant.

"Don't say that word," Harry snapped sharply.

The boy blinked, but nodded.

"Alright," he said.

Harry kept up his glare for a moment before crossing his arms and looking at the other boy with suspicion.

"Why did your brother tell you to be nice to me?" Harry asked.

"Because the Heir of Slytherin likes you," the boy said. "So I have to be your friend so that my brother can be his friend."

Harry gave him a look. He could understand that, to some degree. Being close to power kept you safe. Harry had experienced that much himself. Still, Harry was already close to power, and the boy was a jerk. The kind of jerk who'd made his life miserable at school, mocking him for being an orphan, for being poor.

"Why should I want to be friends with you?" Harry asked.

The boy stared at him, mouth open in shock.

"I'm a Black!" he exclaimed in outrage.

"So?" Harry asked, unimpressed.

"You really are a mud...a muggleborn, aren't you?" the boy said, staring at him as if he were crazy. "The Black's are one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight! We are an Ancient and Most Nobel House! I can trace my ancestors back to the time of Merlin himself, and there isn't a single drop of muggle blood anywhere in the family tree!"

Harry simply arched his eyebrow.

"We have connections all over the Wizarding world!" the boy said desperately.

"Yet you want to be friends with a lowly muggleborn," Harry said.

The boy crossed his arms, an angry look on his face

"What do you want?" he practically hissed.

Harry gave that some thought. What did he want, exactly? He knew that Tom wanted a job in politics, that he had his sights on the ministry. There were lots of things about the wizarding world that he didn't like, that he wanted to change. Black's family connections would help him there. And being such an old family, they would have a nice library. The kind of thing Tom was dying to get his hands on.

"If you want to be my friend," Harry said slowly, "then you need to invite both me and Tom to spend every break with you from now until Tom graduates. You're going to let him and I use your library, and you and your family are going help either of us with anything we might be struggling with."

Harry frowned, thinking it through.

"You're also going to help teach me wizarding etiquette. I don't want people to think badly of Tom because I don't know what fork to use. Deal?"

The boy tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowed.

"Fine," he said at last. "As Heir to the house of Black, I should be able to make that happen. Satisfied?"

"No," Harry said simply.

The other boy growled at him.

"What?" he snapped. "What else could you possibly want?" the boy all but snarled.

"Your name," Harry said simply allowing himself a grin.

The boy gawked at him, and Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"Hi," Harry said, extending his hand. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

"Orion Black," the other boy said, sounding dazed.

"It's nice to meet you, Orion," Harry said with a smile. "Call me Harry, please."

"Harry," Orion said with a small smile of his own.

Orion's squared his shoulder and reached under his robe, pulling a ring off a chain he had around his neck. He slipped it on his finger and reached out, gripping Harry's right hand in both of his.

"Harry Potter," the boy said seriously, "As heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, I declare you and yours a Friend of the House."

The magic that rushed over Harry, dark as Toms but heavy with the weight of time. It felt old. Ancient. A moment, two, the magic surrounding both of them, connecting them. When it finally faded, Harry stared at the boy in shock, feeling more connected to Orion than he had to anyone other than Tom. Acting on impulse, Harry darted forward and wrapped his arms around the boy, ignoring the way his eyes widened in surprise.

"I think we'll be good friends," Harry said simply before pulling away.

Orion, when the shock had faded, gave Harry a tentative smile.

"I think so too."

The crowd of first years began to move then, and the two exchanged a look before hurrying after the rest of the group, Orion putting the ring back on the chain around his neck with Harry's help.

Harry and Orion picked their way carefully down the dark, narrow path the large man with the lantern was leading them down.

"Which house to you think you'll be sorted into?" Harry asked Orion as they walked.

"Slytherin," Orion answered at once. "I'm certain of it. Both of my parents were there, as well as most of my relatives. Ravenclaw would also be acceptable, I suppose. There's no need asking where you'll end up," Orion said.

Harry stared at the other boy in surprise. He had no idea where he was going to end up, and neither did Tom.

"What makes you say that?" he asked.

Orion just snorted, as if Harry had told a joke, but he took a look at Harry's face and his eyes widened.

"Merlin, you're serious aren't you?" Orion asked.

Harry said nothing, doing his best to keep his embarrassment off his face as Orion shook his head in disbelief.

"Harry," the other boy said slowly, "you just managed to become a Friend of the House of one of the oldest bloodlines in the wizarding world. In a four minute conversation. And then after forcing my hand like that, you somehow made me like you. Of course you're going to be in Slytherin."

Harry stared at him, eyes wide.

"You really think so?" he asked, hardly daring to believe it.

"I've never met anyone more cunning in my whole life."

Harry reached over and hugged Orion again, unable to help himself.

"You'll be getting your first sight of Hogwarts in a moment!" the man called over his shoulder, and the two separated, eager for the first look at the castle they had heard so much about.

They rounded the bend ahead of them, and the narrow path opened suddenly, leaving them on the shore beside a huge lake, the night sky turning the water black. On the other side was a high mountain, and perched at the very top of it was a vast castle. It seemed to Harry like something out of a story book, too fantastic to be real. There were turrets and towers everywhere, and the windows seemed to sparkle in the night sky.

"No more than four to a boat!" the man called out, and Harry and Orion wordlessly made their way to one of the long line of boats that waited for them on the shore. When everyone was situated, the man shouted out "FORWARD!" and the boats began to glide across the smooth water.

No one spoke, all of them staring up at the castle in wonder. It was as if they somehow all knew that speaking would break whatever spell had fallen over them at the first sight of their new home.

They all ducked as they reached the base of the cliff on which the castle sat, a curtain of ivy passing over their heads. The small fleet of boats traveled through what seemed to be a tunnel leading them deeper and deeper into the cave until at last they came to an underground harbor. The boats docked and the students clambered out, excited whispers breaking out amongst them.

The entire group was lead up a long flight of stairs, the whispers growing louder and louder until it became a babble of excited voices. They all crowed around the large oak door that waited for them at the top of the steps. The man took one last look over the group, seemingly counting, before he gave a short, satisfied nod. He turned and rapped three times on the door.

It swung open at once and Harry had to work hard to hide his distain. Standing before them in a set of midnight blue robes with enchanted stars actually shooting across the fabric was Professor Dumbledore. Their time apart had done little to soothe Harry's animosity towards the man. If anything it had grown, especially after hearing Tom's stories about the wan the man treated him in class.

"The first years, Professor Dumbledore," the man said.

"Thank you Ogg," Dumbledore said with a wide smile that set his eyes twinkling. He pulled the door open wide and ushered them inside.

"Welcome! Welcome!" he said as the students filed in past him. Harry kept his gaze down, determined not to meet the man's eyes. Still, he was soon distracted by the sight of the entrance hall before him.

It was huge, big enough that Harry thought you could have fit the whole of Wool's inside and still have room to spare. The walls were lit with torches, the ceiling so high that Harry couldn't make it out. There was a marble staircase facing them that lead to the upper floors. The walls were lined with portraits, all of them moving and whispering exactly as Tom had said they did. The warning didn't keep Harry from gaping amazement.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, had been prattling on about the welcome feast and the sorting, which Harry had happily ignored. Tom had already told him all of this, and Harry was perfectly content to ignore the Deputy Headmaster as much as possible.

"I'll return when they are ready for you," the Professor said with a smile, finally concluding his speech. "Welcome to Hogwarts, everyone!"

As soon as he was gone, everyone began to talk. Ignoring the others around him, Harry turned to Orion and asked the only question that was on his mind.

"Did your older brother tell you about the sorting?" Harry asked him. "Or any of your family?"

Tom had been frustratingly tight-lipped about the whole thing, simply smiling at Harry and telling him that it was tradition.

"No," Orion said, put out. "Did Riddle?"

Harry shook his head before letting out a huff of frustrated air.

Before they could speculate any further, Harry jumped about a foot in the air and several people behind him let out screams.

Ghosts. More than a dozen of them, streaming through the wall. Tom had told him, of course. But it was another thing entirely to see it for himself.

"That's Nearly Headless Nick," Orion said, pointing at one ghost who had a large ruff around his neck. "His the Gryffindor house ghost."

"Why is he called nearly headless?" Harry asked.

"His execution didn't go right," Orion said. "Took a whole bunch of whacks at his neck and still didn't cut all the way through."

Harry shuddered. It sounded like a terrible way to die.

"Who are the other house ghosts?" Harry asked, searching for a distraction.

Orion pointed out the Fat Friar, and the Bloody Barren before Professor Dumbledore appeared before them once again.

"If you would all move along to the great hall," the Professor said genially to the ghosts, "the Sorting Ceremony is about to start. I'm certain you don't want to miss it."

One by one, the ghosts did as they were bid, flying through the opposite wall this time.

"Now if you will form a line please and follow me, we can see about getting you sorted."

The Great Hall was beyond description. Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor Dumbledore led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. Enchanted, Harry recalled. To mirror the night sky. Still, it seemed as if there was no ceiling at all, the Great Hall simply open to the sky above.

Professor Dumbledore placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years, and Harry stared at it, appalled.

A hat. An old, worn, singing hat that looked inside your head and figured out what house you belonged in. That was the big secret that had to be kept. Harry found Tom sitting at the head of the Slytherin table and glared at him, only to be met with a smirk. Harry narrowed his eyes. He'd get Tom back for that somehow.

The singing stopped, and Professor Dumbledore began to call the students forward alphabetically by last name. Orion was one of the first called, and Harry was more than a little sad to see him go. It would have been nice to have some company while he waited. Still, the hat had barely touched his head before it called out "SLYTHERIN" in a loud voice and Harry joined in the applause, happy that Orion had gotten the house he wanted.

Time seemed endless, students being sorted into each of the four houses as he stood there and waited, growing more nervous by the minute. He bit his lip and shot Tom a look. Tom was staring straight at him, and gave him a reassuring smile. Harry took a deep breath and nodded, squaring his shoulders. There was no need to be nervous. Tom had promised that this wouldn't change anything between them. He hadn't broken a promise that he'd made to Harry yet. Besides, even if he tried, Harry wouldn't let him. He was more stubborn than Tom, and knew all the older boy's tricks. Tom wouldn't be getting rid of him so easily.

With this comforting thought and a small smile on his face, Professor Dumbledore called out the words "Potter, Harry!"

Harry stepped forward and sat on the stool, and then the professor dropped the hat on top of his head. It was so large that it slid down to cover Harry's eyes, leaving him in the dark.

Hmm. A voice said. Difficult. Very difficult.

The hat. Harry realized suddenly. Of course it was the hat. He promptly felt stupid for being surprised at all. Magic could do all sorts of amazing things. He knew. He'd made it do a fair share of them itself. For something as important as this, of course the enchantment would be complex. Harry wondered exactly what sort of magic it took to make a hat that could not only think for itself, but peer into the minds of others.

The hat chuckled.

Not a bad mind, it said. Not a bad mind at all. Incredibly loyal and willing to work as hard as it takes. Eager to step between harm and others, fighting in the defense of those who cannot defend themselves.. And an urge to prove yourself.

Difficult. Very difficult.

Harry sent a small thought of apology to the hat, hoping it would be able to pick up on it. He hadn't intended to make the hat's job difficult. The hat just laughed again.

There's nothing I enjoy more than a good challenge, the hat told him. I haven't had one like this in years.

Harry still felt slightly bad, but if the hat said it was enjoying itself, then Harry wasn't going to push it. He didn't really care where he ended up. Tom would be his friend regardless. Besides, it might be fun to undermine everyone's expectations. No one would ever see it coming, after all. Not to mention all the different doors he could open, the connections he could make if he was in a house that would have been wary of he and Tom otherwise.

Harry felt the hat smirking in his head.

In that case, it better be "SLYTHERIN!"

The last word was shouted aloud, and Professor Dumbledore reached down and pulled the hat from his head, giving Harry a deeply disappointed look. Harry ignored him. He didn't care at all about what the Professor thought of him. He was far too happy to let anyone spoil his mood. He practically skipped to the Slytherin table, and by the time he arrived, there was a spot open next to Tom.

Harry slid into it without hesitation, beaming up at Tom as the older boy wrapped an arm around him.

"Congratulations, Harry," Tom said, a proud smile on his face.

Harry just beamed in response. "I can't believe it!"

"I can," Tom said simply. "Don't worry. Slytherin house will take good care of you."

To the students around them it was a clear threat. But to Harry, it was a promise. One that Tom had been keeping for years. Sighing in contentment, he snuggled against Tom's side. Slytherin house, Harry was certain, would become home in no time. How could it not, when the Heir himself was Harry's dearest friend?

* * *

 **If you like my writing, and would like to support me and see what I'm up to, I am Dae Richards over on the site that allows you to become a patron. You can also find me on tumblr, where my username is strangesoulmates**


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